The Affair Ch. 02


I don’t think I can do this anymore.

I thought I could, but I can’t. It’s still too fresh. I’m just not able to revisit the affair in this detail.

Writing a story full of emotional memories is difficult. It brings back the joys and the pain. The joys the memories bring override any pain because of the love shared. But this is just too difficult.

This will be my last part of “The Affair.” I’m making this decision after writing what you will find below.

What I wrote seems so cold. Describing the mechanics of making love doesn’t account for the motivations and feelings Catherine and I shared.

So, I’ll just add what I can to the end of this part and conclude the story.


Then my cell phone rang.

It startled me. It startled Catherine.

She was making love to me. My body was responding to her touches.

She had been leaning across me with her back to me massaging and caressing my thighs and fondling my penis and balls.

She had just turned and risen to her knees when it rang.

I was shocked out of the pleasures she making me feel.

We looked toward my cell phone where it lay on the windowsill.

We looked at each other.

I told her that I had been getting unwanted phone calls from unknown numbers.

We took a breath and relaxed. I pulled her up on top of me. Cupping her face I kissed her. She kissed me back. We looked at each other, neither wanting our moment to pass. I pulled her on top of me, my penis sliding between her legs against her vulva.

I cupped her face and kissed her hoping to renew the passion. She kissed me back and started rotating her hips against me. I reached down, squeezed her buttocks, and pressed her against me. Our kissing became more passionate. We ground our pelvises together. The passion was returning. I rolled her onto her back and raised my self to enter her.

Then my cell phone rang again.

We looked at each other. “Like a deer in headlights,” perfectly describes our expression.

We both knew that the spell was broken. She sat up and said I’d better look at the caller ID. It was my wife. She never calls, she always texts during the day.

We stood up, hearts pounding, not quite knowing what to say to each other.

She reached for her clothes and started to dress. I did the same.

Before I was completely dressed, my cell phone rang once again.

I decided I’d better answer it. I said “Hello,” but got no response. I assumed she must have hung up.

I turned to Catherine and told her I was so sorry. She said she was OK.

I finished dressing and reched for my phone, I noticed I had not turned it off.

She saw the look on my face and mouthed, “What’s wrong?”

I turned off my phone and told her that my phone was still connected when I picked it up and didn’t know if my wife had heard anything.

That really threw us off balance.

All I remember was saying was I should go and she saying it’s OK.

Parting was awkward.

On the way home, I called my wife. She didn’t answer so I left a voicemail say that I saw that she had called and was sorry to have missed her.

I got home and tried to do what I normally would do but all the time worrying about what she might have heard and waiting to see what would happen when she got home.

Apparently, she had heard nothing because she was her usual self. It was a huge relief. She had simply called to remind me of an errand I needed to run.

She went to the grocery later that evening so I wrote Catherine a quick email that everything was OK, my wife had heard nothing. She answered right away that she was relieved and that we’d talk Monday. We rarely emailed on weekends because our families were home and we had little private time.

Monday came and in my first email I apologized to her for not turning my cell phone off. She responded that she was relieved that we were not caught.

For the next several days we discussed in our emails what we had done. We shared our concerns that it went against our beliefs and values. At one point, she did some research and found that even among people with strong faith; a high number of them had affairs. But we agreed that was no excuse.

When I read the word affair, it really struck me. The word did describe what we did, but I had not admitted to myself what it was. We talked about our feelings and agreed that what we did may have been wrong, but we weren’t sorry. We talked about stopping writing to each other.

But neither of us wanted that. We confided that we were meeting a need in each other. Not necessarily a sexual need. Yes, neither of us was being sexually satisfied by our spouses. But we were developing a deeper need, one that touched each other’s hearts, our minds, our emotions. Remembering my thought when I first saw her, I started calling her pendik escort “gorgeous.” She began calling me “sweet man” which became “sweetie.”

Every day, as many as five or six times a day, we exchanged emails. We shared what was missing in our lives and how we were filling that void. Feelings grew and were expressed. At one point, she confided in me that she was 90% sure she was going to ask for a divorce. She assured me it wasn’t my fault. It was something she had contemplated even before we met but now felt surer it was what she wanted and needed. I simply helped her make the decision sooner than she had thought she would.

Our talking turned to how we were interrupted and didn’t get a chance to make love the way we had hoped to. The bantering and innuendo started again. We talked about what our making love would have been like but for the phone calls. The phrase, “if we ever got together again,” began to appear in our conversations. Then “if” turned to “when” and we eventually set a day to meet again.

On Wednesday, March 7, we arrived at the apartment at same time. She had bought one of those roll-up foam mattresses. She had told her family it was for her daughter when she went to college in the fall and she was going to store it at the apartment. We carried it inside and up the stairs to the bedroom. I took a pair of cutters out of my tool box to cut the strap and we positioned it against a wall. She got the pillows and sheets she had stored in a closet and we made the bed together.

When we finished, I took her in my arms and we shared “THE” kiss again. It was long. It was passionate. She stepped back and unbuttoned my shirt, slipped it off me, and threw it against the wall. I turned her back to me and pulled her sweater over her head and it joined my shirt on the floor. This time I had no trouble unclasping her bra and tossing it aside. I reached around and massaged her breasts. I began pulling on her nipples. She moaned, turned toward me and we resumed our kissing while pressing our chests together. She stepped back again, knelt down and untied my shoes. I helped take them and my socks off. She unbuckled my belt, unbuttoned my jeans. She knelt, slid them down, and I stepped out of them. She reached up and slid my undershorts off. Then she began to squeeze the back of my thighs, licked up the front of my legs, and gave my penis a flick with her tongue. I pulled her up and, kneeling down, removed her jeans. While standing back up, I kissed my way up her legs and licked her vulva.

I guided her down on the bed and we locked into another kiss while pressing our bodies together. Soon, I helped her onto her back and began making love to her breasts. I sucked and flicked my tongue across her erect nipples. She twisted and turned and moaned and groaned.

In our emails we had talked often about oral stimulation. She told me her husband wouldn’t orally please her and when she was younger, the few times she had experienced it, it wasn’t done well. I had promised her that I would give her the kind of oral sex that she had been missing.

I rose up, looked at her, and then started kissing down her rib cage, her abdomen, to her bare vulva.

I had never had oral sex with a shaved woman before. Licking around her vulva, across her groin and her inner thighs was so stimulating for me. I spread her legs, raised her knees, and positioned myself between them so I could see her face and play with her nipples.

I began licking across her thighs and groin, then up and down the outside of her outer lips. They began to swell. I pulled on her lips with my lips, opening them farther. The moment I slipped my tongue between them, she jerked and cried out. I licked up and down her inner lips while reaching up and squeezing and pulling on her nipples. Her body was writhing. I brought my tongue to her clitoris and grazed my tongue across it. She froze and cried out. I licked my tongue up and down her lips again. Probing between, I extended my tongue inside her opening. Her breathing became faster. Her body was trembling, her sounds louder. I moved my mouth back to her clitoris. I alternated running my tongue across and around it. When I took it between my lips and sucked on it, she jerked and let out a loud cry.

I lost myself in the feel of her smoothness. Her aroma and taste filled my senses. My emotions were intensified. I looked at her face. It gave me so much satisfaction to see the look of ecstasy on her face.

I worked my lips and tongue faster and faster. Her body began to convulse with an orgasm. She pressed my head against her vulva. I grabbed onto her hips to hold her still. With a shriek, she came. And she came, and she came. It was a continuous orgasm. For as long as she was coming, I continued stimulating her clitoris with my mouth and tongue. I have no idea how long she went on, but eventually maltepe escort her spasms and noises wound down. When she lay relatively still, I gently licked her vulva and drank her juices.

She cried out, “My God. I can’t understand why a woman wouldn’t want that every day!”

I climbed back up, took her in my arms, held her tight, and caressed her face. She took a deep breath, turned toward me, and wrapped her legs and arms around me.

Soon we were talking again. We talked about making love. She shared the sensations she had just experienced. She said it not only filled her body with pleasure, it filled her heart and mind with thoughts and feelings she had never known. She said it made her feel wanted, appreciated, and loved

We talked more about ourselves, our families, our experiences. We wanted to know as much about each other as we could.

After awhile, her hand began to caress my nipples. She ran her fingers around them and gently squeezed. I had told her that my nipples were sensative and she was stimulating them. She moved down and began licking and sucking on them. I was quickly aroused.

Her hand moved to my penis and balls. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the attention my “hot spots” were getting. She moved her lips down my abdomen. Soon I could feel her licking my shaft.

That surprised me. In another one of our discussions, she mentioned that she was not into taking a man’s penis into her mouth and definitely didn’t want a man to come in her mouth. Her husband wasn’t interested so it was not part of something she fantasized about. I had told her that on occasion my wife would take me in her mouth and even come in her mouth. But then she’d jump up, run to the bathroom and spit my semen out. Catherine asked me if I preferred to have my come swallowed. I told her it didn’t make much difference to me because no woman had ever swallowed. I told her that if a woman could, that would be nice, but if she wouldn’t or couldn’t that was fine with me too. It was the woman’s choice.

She continued licking my penis and caressing my balls. I was so aroused I started moving my hips. She took one of my balls into her mouth and gently sucked and massaged it with her tongue. I was stiff enough for her to move her hand up and down my shaft as if masturbating me. She leaned down and licked its tip. Suddenly, she took my shaft between her lips and sucked hard. She sucked all the way to the base then pulled back still sucking. I moaned or made some kind of noise.

She looked at me and smiled. My heart was filled with gratitude and affection. She was orally pleasing me. But it wasn’t because of what she was doing, it was that she was doing it.

She started moving her lips up and down keeping a strong suction. One hand played with my balls. She would stop sucking and pump my penis with her hand then go back to sucking. My body began to writhe. It was me who was making the noises. When she could sense I was about to come, she took me deep into her mouth. She pressed a finger against my anus. That sent me over the top. She sucked until I released. With my penis still in her mouth, she continued sucking and licking up and down my shaft and stimulating my anus until I had to beg her to stop.

I heard her swallow. She leaned toward me and smiled. All I could do was lay there. I couldn’t believe she took me in her mouth let alone swallow my come. I had never felt such completness before, such closesness. I had just come in her mouth and she swallowed it! Feelings that I wasn’t aware I had toward her welled up inside me.

I pulled her toward me and we kissed. It was a gentle kiss, a kiss that said “thank you.” We held each other wordlessly for awhile, lost in our own thoughts about what we had just experienced.

When it was time to leave, we reluctantly stood up, naked before each other. It seemed the most natural thing in the world. We shared a last kiss, dressed, and went on our way home.


This is where I decided I can’t do this anymore. So, I’ll try to bring this final chapter to a close.

In our next series of emails, we de-briefed our time together. We talked about the emotions we shared more than the sexual part. One thing she said was that she was glad I had swallowed her juices and she had swallowed my semen. Now, she said, we will always be a part of each other. Our fluids will eventually permeate every cell of our bodies.

Then she shocked me by saying that she loved me. I was flustered at that. I told her I didn’t intend for her to love me. She said she didn’t expect that to happen either. I processed my feelings and had to agree that I had come to love her as well.

That revelation made us take a long look at our “affair.” We struggled morally, with our faith, and what this would mean to our families if we were caught. We finally, kartal escort and painfully, agreed that we would meet one last time then try to break our affair. We agreed not to email each other anymore. We thought it might be easy because both of us and our families were going on spring break the first week of April and we wouldn’t be able to be in contact.

Our intended last time, Monday, March 19, was both joyous and sad. We arrived earlier than usual. We lovingly and tenderly made love with each other. After satisfying her orally, she reached toward me, pulling me upward. She opened her legs to me and I entered her. We lost ourselves in the rhythm of sex. I was just about to come when she shifted and I lost it. She turned me on my back and orally satisfied me. When I came, she swallowed again. Afterward, we held each other, trying to fight back tears.

When it was time to leave, we got dressed, packed up the sheets and pillows and leaned the bed against the wall.

I helped carry things to her van. We faced each other. We were afraid to say anything. We left it at, “have a safe trip back,” and we drove off.

We had agreed to “wean” ourselves from each other by cutting down on the emails. Catherine was much stronger than I was. I wrote more often. In our emails, we tried to assure ourselves that we were doing the right thing. We told each other that we were fortunate to have shared a love like we have. We had taught each other how to love and be loved. We had learned what love should and can be and how it is expressed sexually.

The day finally arrived when we had agreed to stop our emails. I had such a feeling of loss, but knew this was best for the both of us.

My family and I made our trip to the beach. I didn’t even look at at my email account. But, halfway through the week, for some reason I checked. I had missed an email from her by minutes. She was just wondering if I had arrived OK. I wrote back and we shared a few more over the next few days. I told her I’d like to see her one last time. I suggested we meet at a nature reserve about midway between us. We could hike and maybe eat a picnic lunch together. She agreed.

After we returned from spring break, we began planning our meeting. It soon turned to meeting at the apartment then driving to the reserve.

On Tuesday, April 17, we met again. We made love with a passion. We ended with me entering her and, this time, coming inside her. It was a sense of completion for the both of us.

We packed up the things she brought and she followed me to the reserve. It felt so good to be in the real world instead of the artificial world we had created in the apartment. We walked, we talked, we laughed, we held hands, we sat beside stream and ate together. When we returned to the parking lot, we shared a kiss before we left. Not THE kiss, but a softer, gentler kiss.

Over next several days, she asked me if I thought we had a future together. She had decided to get a divorce and needed to plan for what lay ahead for her.. I said I didn’t see how we could have a future together. Honesty being a trademark of our relationship, I wrote that there was the age difference, the strength of our faith, our obligations to our families and friends to consider. We discussed this back and forth over several days. I finally said that we seem to be left with three choices. One was to continue the way we had been. But that wasn’t fair to her. Another was to try to continue as email friends but not meet again. Again that wasn’t fair to her. The third, and most painful, was for us to no longer to have any kind of contact. She said it would have to be the third. It was the only way she could move forward. In our last emails to each other, we wrote what we had meant to each other, how we now knew what real love was, and thanked each other for sharing our bodies so openly and unconditionally with each other.

April 20, was the last I heard from her. The first few weeks were full of pain and a sense of loss. The pain eventually lessened and I was able to try to resume the life I had before Catherine.

While mowing the lawn on May 18, for some reason I stopped and went in to check my email account. There was an email from her with “Final Update” in the subject line. That’s the way it was with Catherine and me. We had this sixth sense about hearing from each other.

In the email she wanted to inform me of what was going on in her life before I might look on her Facebook page and notice her relationship changes. She and her husband had agreed on a dissolution and told their children on Mother’s Day. When her daughters moved out to go back to college, she would be moving to another state.

At the end, she wrote, “I will always love you, but I have to move on. You taught me so much, and loved me so well. We know that real love, unconditional love, is possible and attainable. You are a good man. Don’t ever forget that. You are precious.

Please don’t respond to this letter. I know your heart.”

My prayer is that she let’s me know before she moves so that I can say a proper goodbye to her.

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